A Full Week
by TerriblyDisturbed
Summary: During the trip to Russia Tony is convinced to be a better person. This changes everything, including the length of the trip.
1. Monday

MONDAY

After touching down in Russia Anwar was taken away to be anally searched for drugs or bombs or… something. Looking back on it now, it's probably part of the reason he's acting all twatty and homophobic. Anyway, when we finally got out of the airport it turned out that Tom has rented us a broken bus. After some negotiations, which obviously had nothing to do with safety standards, we were all loaded onto the back of some farmer's truck and shipped off to the hostel.

When we arrived at the hostel, which to be honest looks more like a rundown prison than somewhere people would pay to sleep, we were given some horrid slop to eat, partnered up and sent to our rooms. Obviously, I paired off with Anwar, him being my best mate, but somewhere along the way he decided to be put off by me being a homo. He actually asked me if I ever tried being straight, as if I just happened to be confused all this time, the idiot. The one part of his religion he decides to follow just has to be the one that makes me out to be some sort of sicko.

In any case, that's why I am here. Standing outside of Sid and Tony's door wondering if I am making the right decision. My gut instinct was to go to Chris, but he's no good when it comes to feelings and stuff. He'd likely pretend to listen, but in his head he'd be going over the different ways he could change to topic. This really only leaves me with Sid and Tony since the rooms are sorted by gender. Sid would likely be as much help as Chris; though I am sure he'd pipe in every now and then with a "That's shit." Or simple "You're right." But Tony, he's the wild card. He definitely wont care whether or not I make up with Anwar, but his antics might just be the distraction I need to make this trip at least mildly enjoyable.

I knock on the door quickly while I am thinking positively about the decision. I take the muffled words that follow as permission to enter and push in with bags in hand. Tony and Sid sit on their beds looking up at me curiously, though Sid looks to be a bit sick.

"Can I switch rooms? Anwar has suddenly decided to become a Muslim." I mumble by way of explanation.

"You mean more Muslim than he already was?" Sid asks confused.

"Decidedly," I reply.

Looking from Sid to Tony, it's clear that Sid doesn't really want to go anywhere, but Tony is giving me the most welcoming smile I've ever seen on his face…ever. It's pretty clear he's already up to something, but for now it seems it's in my favour.

"Sid would love to switch, wouldn't you Sid?" He says, smile still plastered across his face.

Poor Sid looks dumbfounded, but stands to leave anyway.

"Better take your bags with you." Tony adds.

I mouth an apology as he grabs his luggage from the floor and trudges out the door. I take a seat on the bed opposite Tony and he immediately moves to sit on the bed next to me.

"What happened," He inquires.

For some reason I find the question embarrassing, like it's my fault that Anwar is an arse and at the same time I am confused about how to answer, because Anwar's never seemed to have a problem with my sexuality in the past.

"He's just like switched about me being… you know," I reply.

"Blonde?"

I suppose he's being kind, pretending not to know, but it's irritating all the same.

"No."

"Short?"

"Gay," I blurt, before he has the chance to guess again.

"Should I give you head?" He asks without a moments hesitation.

And what the hell? In what world is that something you ask someone who's upset.

"What?"

"It might cheer you up," he insists.

"For fuck's sake you're supposed to be a friend Tony. And I've come here with a problem okay?"

He seems to contemplate what I've said for a moment, but then he's even closer to me. Closer than he's ever been to me and his hand is at the back of my head to stop me from moving away and… and we're kissing. It's brief, as I manage to twist my head away, but it still leaves an impression. Which is likely the whole point of him doing it in the first place.

"You fuck."

"We're in Russia, I want to try something new." He explains.

This makes me madder than the kiss itself. I am not just a hobby for him pick up on a whim, only to discard the moment he gets bored.

"If you want to try something new Tony, why don't you try being a nice person for once in your life?"

I stand up to leave, but he grabs my wrist to stop me. He doesn't speak when I turn around. In fact he isn't even looking at me, he looks like he is thinking something over.

When he finally looks up at me he smiles.

"I can do that." He smirks.

"What?"

"Be a nice a nice person. While we're in Russia."

I shrug. "You can try."

He lets go of my wrist and pulls of his shirt, he obviously has no idea what being a nice person means, but a shirtless Tony peaks my curiosity enough to stick around for a bit. So I stand and watch as he moves over to his own bed and stretches out. He looks at me expectantly and pats the empty space beside him.

"I am not going to shag you Tone. That would make _me_ the nice person."

"Get your mind out of the gutter Max," he says indignantly. "I thought you'd like a cuddle buddy. Someone to just be there… and to listen… to all of your problems."

I can tell he was making it up as he went along by the way he says it all. Trouble is, if he is really going to give this whole being a better person thing a shot than I'd really like to take him up on his offer. Isn't this what everybody wants from another person? For them to lend you their ear when you need it and comfort you with their warmth?

Even in my head I can tell I am just making up excuses to lie with Tony now that he's shirtless and ready to embrace me. I stare at the door willing someone to barge in and stop me from giving in, but no one comes and just like that my shirt is over my head. He frowns when I don't immediately join him, but I can't stand sleeping in denim so I rummage through my bag for my only pair of pyjama bottoms and pull them on.

The warmth of his body engulfs me as I slide under the covers beside him. I put my back to him and he throws his arm over my waist to pull me closer. He doesn't try anything else and the warmth radiating from his chest is obliterating the chill that has been stuck in my body since the ride on the back of the farm truck, so I let it be. His scent is all that I can smell it surrounds me and it's intoxicating. He smells of exotic spices and something sweet… pears maybe.

We lie silently in the growing darkness for a while, listening to the quiet sounds of the rest of our classmates settling down for the night. He starts to absently rub his thumb in circles on my stomach and I instinctively tense up.

"Aren't you supposed to be telling me about your problems?" he whispers.

I open my mouth to speak, but decide against it. Partly because I realize that I can't really trust Tony to not use anything I tell him against me somewhere down the road, but mostly I stop talking because I realize that I am actually content as we are. That this, us just lying there, is enough.

"No," I finally whisper back, "Just make sure that the nice Tony is still here when I wake up."

"You're the boss." I can hear the grin in his voice as he speaks and I can't help but smile in turn.

He sighs and nestles his head into the crook of my neck. I sigh in turn letting his warmth and his scent envelop me and it must be conductive to sleep, because I am asleep in minutes.


	2. Tuesday

TUESDAY

I wake the next morning to find I am no longer facing away from Tony, but instead lying with my head rested on his chest. I roll onto my back and instantly mourn the loss of his body heat. I am actually quite certain that the room has dropped a few degrees since last night. Tony pulls the blanket up around himself, obviously missing my heat as well, but he doesn't wake. I find myself watching him now, unable to avert my attention away from the mysterious boy who lies beside me. Even in his sleep there is a hint of that classic Tony smile or should I say Stonem smile, since his sister Effy seems to have inherited the same one? A single smile from either one of them could tell an entire story, but usually it's there to just give you a little hint. Just enough to make you aware that they know something you don't and then it's gone.

A glimpse of blue pulls me from my reverie and I am embarrassed to find Tony staring right back at me.

"Like watching people in their sleep do you? " He questions with eyebrows raised, "pervert."

He leans over and pecks me on the cheek and I sigh. Of course he would ruin it.

"Tony." I mumble in warning.

"Don't worry. I am just being friendly."

The smile that he can't keep from spreading across his face tells me that even he doesn't think that excuse will work, so I punch him lightly on the arm to let him know that it hasn't.

"Are you getting out of bed now." He asks quietly, sleep still crackling in his voice.

I shake my head. I might be wide-awake at this point, but my desire to stay warm much outweighs my desire to start the day.

"Good," he mumbles.

He rolls over onto his side and lays his arm across my chest. He makes a job out of finding a comfortable place for his head resting on my shoulder before settling in and closing his eyes.

I watch as his breathing begins to slow and even out, but as soon as it hits a regular pattern I am startled by the sound of the giant bell ringing out in the corridor. I look down to see that it's woken Tony too. He groans and mutters something about bloody Russians, but sits up nonetheless. He stifles a yawn behind his hand then runs it through his hair.

"So much for that."

We manage to drag ourselves out of bed and dress quickly because of the cold air. Out in the cafeteria we're treated to the same grey slop we had to eat yesterday and the news that Tom has fucked up the preparations once again. Today we were meant to visit some Russian history museum, but apparently the poor farmer who has been lending us his truck for transportation doesn't feel comfortable driving 80 miles into the city with 20 teenagers illegally riding in his flatbed. Can't really blame the man. Tom has an impromptu meeting with Angie, only to inform us all that we will indeed be staying at the hostel for the remainder of the day. A round of groaning spreads amongst our classmates as they slowly concede to a day of boredom.

And that's mostly how the day goes until dinner. Tony and I laze about in our room uninterrupted aside from a lengthy visit from Sid and a brief check-in by Michelle. I spend most of my time doodling in my sketchbook, but I force myself to stop when I inadvertently start my fourth drawing of Tony. Upon review I notice that with each one I've drawn him in a further state of undress.

Just as I set down my pencil the bell rings for dinner causing both Tony and I to jump in surprise.

"Oh, for fuck's sake," Tony snaps, "can't she just knock on the doors as she goes past?"

I shrug and make my way to the door, which Tony holds open for me as I go through. In all of the silence of the day I had forgotten he was supposed to be being nice, but he really seems to be giving it a go.

We sit down to dinner, the same slop as we had for breakfast 'cept with bits of mystery meat stirred in, across the table from Sid, Chris and Anwar. He acts like nothing has happened, like he hasn't been a complete arse to me since we arrived here, and I try my best to remain civil.

While we're finishing up, he starts to go on about his plans to chat up some Russian girl that he and Sid can see from their window and I can hardly hold in my anger. The fucking hypocrite. Of course, he can bend the rules of his religion when it comes to some munter he can stick his cock in, but when it comes to his best mate he's got to be the perfect fucking temple boy. I throw my spoon in my empty bowl and stand up to leave, thankfully only Tony notices and he doesn't try to stop me. I stack my dishes in the wash bin and storm off to my room.

I am hardly brooding in the room for five minutes when I hear a commotion out in the hall. I couldn't really care less about what's happening out there until I recognize one of the voices as being Tony's. I head out the door and am immediately engulfed by a crowd of people circled around Tony and Anwar.

"…'Cause you're a fucking hypocrite, that's why." Tony continues to fume as I approach.

I grab Tony's arm and try to steer him back in the direction of our room.

"Tone, he's not worth getting so worked up." I say in an attempt to calm him down, and it seems to be working, he even starts walking towards the room with me until Anwar decides that he isn't finished.

"Why don't you gay him Max, that should soothe him," he laughs.

In a second I lose my grip on Tony's arm and his fist is crashing into Anwar's face. I am in a state of shock, not to say that I didn't _really_ enjoy seeing it happen, just that it was Tony who threw the punch. I don't think I've ever seen him get physical with anyone before, let alone someone who he called his friend not two days ago. Most of the time he wins his battles with his wit alone.

I grab hold of his arm and pull him to our room, much more forcefully this time, but he doesn't resist in the slightest. I sit him on his bed and check his hand to make sure he didn't injure it.

"Are you okay?" I ask quietly.

He doesn't answer, but the largest grin spreads across his face and I find myself smiling along with him once again. It's short lived, as the look on 'Chelle's face when she barges in wipes the smiles off of both of ours.

"Maxxie give us a minute, yeah?" she demands.

I nod and make for the door. She's on him before I am even gone.

"So you're fighting with Anwar now!? Since when did you give a shit about Maxxie? You don't even…"

He rant is cut short by the door closing, but I think I know where it's going. Bitch. I head for the stairwell to get some air outside. As I push through the doors I see Anwar standing out there and try my best to retreat unnoticed, but he spots me.

"Max," he calls.

I linger in the doorway to hear what he's going to say 'cause if it's an apology I'd like to hear it.

"… did he only last two minutes?"

I push back through the doors to confront him face to face.

"Fuck off Anwar. You know, I never asked Tony to smash you, but I am starting to be pretty glad that he did."

"Tony, _Tony Stonem, _defended you on 'is own accord than did he? I believe that."

"You might not know it, but that's what mates do."

"Well, keep your new _mate_ away from me."

He turns and walks around the building. So much for getting some fresh air; all I've got is more bullshit.

Michelle is just exiting the room when I arrive, and I am given the stink eye. What've I done now? I ask Tony as much when I take a seat next to him, he's hunched over clearly mid thought about something, but he answers me still.

"You left your book open. Michelle was… concerned with the accuracy of your drawing."

I flush, looking over to my sketchbook laid open on the other bed.

"It's quite accurate actually. Even got the trim right," he informs me with eyebrows raised.

I feel my face getting even warmer and I fumble for what to say.

"I… I am sorry that I made 'Chelle mad at you. I swear it was just a lucky guess."

"Don't worry Max," he says with a flash of his trademark grin, "that's not the reason she's mad at me."

"What other reason does she have?"

He pauses for a moment to think.

"Did you tell me about your problems last night?"

"No, but-"

"Well, there you go."

He slumps back, lying sideways on the bed and lets out a sigh. He may not want to talk about it, but it's clear on his face that he is putting a lot of thought into it. After the cheery mood he's been in the last couple weeks, this somber Tony feels absolutely foreign.

"Looks like _you're _the one who needs a cuddle buddy now." I jest, trying to lighten the mood, but it backfires and he just turns to look at me with the most deadpan expression on his face.

"Sorry," I mumble with a shrug of my shoulders and to my reliefs he returns his attention to the ceiling.

After a moment of me just sitting there watching him study the stucco, he outstretches his arm beside him on the bed. It takes me a moment to understand the gesture and when I finally do I hesitate to obey it. It doesn't seem like the best time for me to be cuddling with him when I am pretty sure I am at least part of the reason Michelle is angry, even if Tony wont admit it. But it had helped me settle my emotions about Anwar, so I lay back and tuck myself under his arm resting my head on his chest.

His hand finds my hair and he begins to lazily run his fingers through it. I tuck myself in closer to him, or as much as I can with our legs hanging off the side of the bed, to further protect my body from the chill in the air.

I long for the blankets. I want to wrap them around us both and lay in the bed properly, but I can feel how much he has calmed in these last few minutes and like holding a baby that's just fallen asleep I fear any jostling could put him right back where he started.

It's twenty minutes before I begin to doze off and with Tony's hands still running through my hair, it doesn't take much longer to fall asleep entirely.


	3. Wednesday

WEDNESDAY

I am disoriented when I wake up. It feels like I just fell asleep, but when I open my eyes I find that I have moved under the blankets and am lying on the bed in the right direction. My head is rested on the lap of an already dressed for the day Tony, who is leaned up against the wall reading a book while his empty hand once again fiddles with my hair.

"Has the bell rung already?" I inquire, trying to get a sense of the time.

Tony puts down his book and smiles down at me.

"About time you woke up, the last couple hours felt like days."

I look up at him with my eyebrows raised incredulously.

"Have you not slept at all?"

"Of course," he laughs, "I woke up a while back and I was freezing and you were shivering so I pulled us under the covers, but then I couldn't fall back asleep. When the sun started coming, up I figured the bell'd ring any minute so I got dressed, but I guess the woman slept in 'cause it's well past time now."

He picks up his book and begins reading once again as I rub my eyes and sit up. I lean up against the wall beside him and rest my head on his shoulder. My eyes idly scan the pages of the book as he reads chapter after chapter, but I must be groggy from sleep still because the words don't form proper sentences in my head. Or perhaps it's just beyond my comprehension. Tony has always been ahead of the class; it's part of the reason why he can manipulate everyone around him so easily. Even when it seems to be backfiring on him, it always ends off in his favour. His intelligence is a large part of what I find so magnetizing about him, there is so much going on inside of his head at every given moment and not a single person could possibly understand all of it. Tony is a mystery, an enigma.

The bell rings, dragging me out of my thoughts and motivates me to go and get dressed. In my peripheral vision, it seems like I've accidently managed to distract Tony from his book, but every time I look over at him he appears to be reading just as intently as he was before.

When we finally make it to the dining hall we are treated to more slop and Tom's plans for the day. Apparently he's managed to find a factory that is close enough so that the farmer is willing to drive us and that is also willing to give us a tour, though what a factory has to do with this history class is beyond me. Even Angie doesn't seem too thrilled to be going on this tour, which makes me even less eager to go.

On the truck-ride over I huddle in the corner of the flatbed with Tony and Sid for warmth. I sit uncomfortably close to Sid in order to avoid the scathing looks I've been getting from Michelle every time I am "too near" to Tony.

"How goes the hunt for the Russian beauty?" Tony asks Sid as we bump along the road.

"Cancelled," he replies glumly, "right after you hit 'im he came in and threw out all his durex. Said you were right and he should be a better Muslim."

"I _am_ always right." Tony insists.

"Yeah, well now I am stuck with him praying fifty times a day. I've never been more bored." He complains.

We all fly up in the air as the truck drives over a pothole and stops abruptly. As we collect ourselves from the floor of the bed the driver notifies Tom that we've arrived at our destination. I hop down from the truck and look up to see that the building we've arrived at doesn't come near to meeting my very, very low expectations. I sigh heavily and move begrudgingly towards the front entrance with the rest of the group.

The hostel matron and now tour guide Valentina explains how this building is one of Russia's last remaining traditional glue factories. The first limping horse walking by lets everyone know exactly what she means by traditional. I am mortified. The entire group suffers through as Valentina translates the gruesome details about how the glue is manufactured. The sounds of the frightened horses can be heard from the back portion of the factory and a steady flow of thick paste pumps from the pipes that line the walls around us. I shut my eyes tightly and grab for Tony's hand as the next horse is lead into the factory, it's a bad idea and it will probably make Michelle even angrier at me, but I need the contact.

This glue factory is a place from my nightmares, and not even because of the poor horses. It just makes me question my entire future and being so sure about my plans is part of what gets me through the average day. You see, the thing is that my father was never happy about me deciding to be a dancer. He always compared it to deciding to be a race horse, "one small injury and your glue" he'd say. I remember the day before my first ever dance recital he casually put on a tape of a horse with a broken leg being shot in the head after a race. It terrified me and when I got to the recital I froze up on the stage, so scared that any movement would snap my leg and I would never dance again. It took my mother three weeks to get me to return to practice and my instructor another two weeks to get me to dance.

"Wasn't that insightful?" Tom inquires.

Nobody answers him and as I open my eyes it seems everyone just looks disgusted.

"Yes well, in any case it's back to the bus… er truck rather."

The group manages to get themselves on the back of the truck and ready to go much faster than they did on the way here and I couldn't be more pleased. Everyone is silent the entire trip.

When Tony and I get back to our room I immediately drop down on the bed. Tony stands by the other bed shedding his many layers of outdoor clothing.

"Is it always a twenty-four seven job?" He asks out of the blue.

"What?" I reply confused.

"Keeping you happy, I always thought it was just how you are, but if this trip has taught me anything it's that making you happy requires constant upkeep."

I frown at him, "Making a joke of it won't help, Tony."

"Well then, let's do something!" He exclaims.

I sit up, interested in anything to distract me from my mood.

"Like what?" I question.

"You like to dance, right? Well, then let's do that."

"Tone, we can't leave the premises and we don't have any music."

He smiles at me and walks over to the door.

"Have you no faith in me at all?" he inquires with mock hurt, and then he's out into the corridor.

It only takes five minutes and he's back. In his hands is a small cassette radio and a very large bottle of vodka.

"Where did you get it?" I ask. I smile despite my previous mood; something about this has got me way more excited than I've ever been to see a cassette player.

"Nicked it from that Valentia woman, had like eight bottles of this, bloody booze hound."

He passes me the bottle of Vodka and moves to plug in the cassette player under the window. I take a swig as he ejects the tape.

"Bloody hell," he groans, "it's Neil Diamond… On both sides too."

"I love Neil Diamond," I inform him.

"Of course you do."

He puts the cassette back in and presses play. He gestures for me to move over, and then takes a seat beside me on the bed, grabbing the bottle of vodka and taking a swig.

We're well into the B-side of the cassette before any dancing happens. We've dusted off nearly half of the bottle by the time I hear the first two notes of my favourite song.

"Tony!" I rejoice, "We absolutely must dance to this one."

It's "Marry Me" a Neil Diamond duet that I always swore would be the song that played during my first dance if I ever got married. I sit the bottle of vodka on the ground by the bed and grab Tony by both hands to pull him up. As he stands he moves deftly into the classic slow dance position with both hands on my waist. I throw my hands around his neck and we begin to make our circles. He listens to the lyrics as Neil begins to sing and laughs.

"Are you hinting for a ring, Max?" he chimes.

"Shut up you wanker." Is all I can say.

Before I know it the song is over, but Tony doesn't stop. We keep turning as the next song starts and his eyes seem to ask me for permission to stay like this, just dancing into the night. I can feel a smile coming on, so I rest my head against his shoulder in order to hide it. No need to stoke his ego.

We dance for another half hour or so. Not even to the music anymore, we maintain our slow pace even as the songs begin to pick up. I am hardly even aware of what song is playing anymore or how many songs we've danced to.

I feel his muscles tense up, startled when the cassette clicks to a stop. He let's out a light laugh to play it off, but I can't help but feel I am not the only one disappointed by the fact that we no longer have an excuse to keep dancing. I have to fight the urge to just stand there embraced. I slowly remove my arms from around his neck and my head from his shoulder.

He moves to sit on the floor next to the vodka bottle as I look for a station on the radio. I only manage to find one, and it's a mix of classical music and long-winded conversations in Russian, but I leave it on for the noise.

I sit on the floor propped up against the bed opposite Tony. He takes a swig of the vodka and passes the bottle to me. The rest of the night goes by just like that. Passing the bottle back and forth, with the odd quiet conversation about some shared memory or another. Sometime in there I nod off, but it doesn't last.

I wake up from the chill and a pain in my back from the metal of the bed. I look across the room to Tony, who it seems has also fallen asleep. I crawl across the floor and shake his shoulder.

"Tony," I half whisper, "Tony wake up."

He doesn't budge and I can't work up the effort to keep shaking him so I pull a pillow off the bed and stick it behind him. I remove the bottle of vodka from his hand and hide it under the bed. I pull the all of the blankets from the bed behind him and move so I am nestled between his legs with my back against his chest. I arrange the blankets so that they cover both of us as best as I can manage, and I fall asleep.

This time it sticks.


	4. Thursday

THURSDAY

I wake up with Tony's arms wrapped around me, and his head uncomfortably resting on my shoulder. The poor guy is going to have a sore neck all day.

The door bursts open and Michelle strides inside. Her face instantly distorts with rage as her eyes spot us on the floor.

"What the actual fuck, Tony!" She roars.

He wakes, startled and confused, but when his eyes clear he simply looks at her with a questioning look.

"What?" He asks.

She grumbles and storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. I move to stand up, but Tony pulls me back against him.

"No, I am not ready for the cold yet." He mutters sleepily.

I would protest, but with my movement I've only just noticed that I've got a serious case of morning wood. You'd think it would have vanished with the angry woman, but apparently not. I settle back against him.

"Shouldn't you go after her or something?" I query.

"No," he states simply, tightening his grip around me and resting his head on my shoulder once more. "She probably just thinks we had sex or something."

WHAT?

"Is that not a problem?"

I feel him shrug behind me and I turn my head to face his as best as I can.

"Not really," he replies casually, "she thought we did the other day too."

Again, WHAT?

"And you didn't think I should know this?"

"Of course not, you'd get all worked up and anxious and eventually end up apologizing to her for something you haven't done… yet."

I elbow him in the ribs for that last part, but otherwise I can't really say anything. He knows me too well; he's always got everyone figured out. It does make me sad though, that 'Chelle has spent the whole trip so far thinking that I've been having casual sex with her boyfriend. Seems I've ruined the trip for her as much as Anwar would've done for me if it weren't for Tony.

"You should go apologize, Tone." I suggest, "Sort everything out."

"You're right," he says. "I'll tell her we've just been sleeping together every night, no penetration. She'll understand."

I sigh and he just laughs in my ear.

"Alright, alright… I'll go apologize." He surrenders, kissing me on my shoulder before releasing his hold and allowing me to get up. It's no wonder she thinks we've slept together really. If she'd spent more time in the room with us I'd almost think she was stupid if she didn't.

As I stand, I am relieved that my earlier… situation has eased and proceed to get dressed. I follow behind Tony as he makes his way to Michelle and Jal's room and stops outside their door. He raises his hand to knock, but stops mid-way to look back at me.

"Probably, best if you stay out of sight, yeah?"

I move to stand against the wall beside the door, and he knocks. The door swings open.

"Hi," Tony greets.

"What do you want?" Jal's voice, not Michelle's.

"I've come to apologize." He says smiling.

"That Maxxie's idea?" she asks.

"What? 'Course not."

He looks at me and winks before entering the room, the door closing behind him. I wait impatiently, unable to hear anything but muffled voices through the solid door. I bite my lip in anticipation, pacing back and forth until he is pushed, stumbling out of the room. He looks at me and tilts his head to the side, shrugging.

"She said I hesitated, so it must be true." He explains.

"Who are you talking to?" Comes Michelle's voice from inside the room. The door hasn't closed yet and she storms out of it staring at me with venom in her stare.

"Hi 'Chelle." I offer meekly.

"Maxxie, you slut." She spits as she slaps me across the face.

"Whoa, you alright Max?" Tony asks.

I am in shock, but in a weird way I feel like I deserved it. I stand unresponsive as Tony tilts my jaw to the side with his hand to access the damage, but the whole time I am watching as Michelle gives him the most hateful glare.

"You'll live," he decides, but as he turns back to her he is served with his own slap, much harder than the one she gave to me.

"Fuck off!" she roars, before retreating to her room and slamming the door behind her.

"I see now that nothing good comes from being a nice person." Tony says as we make our way back to our room.

"Maybe if you were nice to more than just me…" I offer, but I know I am wrong, before I even finish the sentence.

"No, that wouldn't work," he states, "If I was nice to Anwar, I would've had to take his side on this whole thing. Which of course means I wouldn't have let you share a room with me and you'd probably be sharing a bed with Tom instead. If I was nice to Sid I would have asked him if he wanted to room with Anwar before volunteering him. He of course would refuse, because… well who wouldn't? And you would have been… sharing a bed with Tom. And if I was being nice to Nips I would've kicked you out when she asked me to, which I guess has the same outcome."

"She asked you to kick me out?"

It's an odd mix of anger and happiness I feel now. Anger, because Michelle would have me sleeping in the corridor and happiness, because it seems Tony has been standing up for me more than I realized.

"Yeah, pretty sure it was the drawing that done it." He explains as we stop outside of our door.

"You see, it's really a choice of being nice to everyone 'cept you or being nice to just you, but it's you're choice."

I sigh and push him lightly into our room.

"Selfish Max, very selfish." He chides in mock seriousness.

As soon as we settle in, the morning bell rings. I hadn't even noticed that it hadn't rung yet to be honest. Valentina must be slipping or perhaps she realizes that there is no point in getting up so early when Tom is making up plans as he goes.

The two of us head to the dining hall to eat our daily helping of slop and wait for instruction from Tom. Judging from her face, Angie is pissed at him for some reason, which isn't really a good sign of things to come. He stands on a bench with his arms outstretched to address the group.

"Class, it has been decided," he looks down at Angie who is already shaking her head in irritation. "That since this is our last full day in Russia, we'd give all of you a chance to rest up for the long flight ahead."

The hall echoes with the groans from our peers. Tony stands up and slams his hands down on the table dramatically.

"For fuck's sake Tom," He bellows, "You couldn't find us anything to do at all? Pathetic. You call this a class? This was supposed to be a learning experience, all we've learned is how to murder horses."

"Tony, are you even in this class?" Tom questions.

"You're the professor, shouldn't you know that?" he replies.

Tom looks around at the crowded hall awkwardly. Everyone watches him silently waiting for what he has to say next, but nothing comes.

"Come on, Max." Tony says, breaking the silence. He pulls me up from my seat by my arm and walks out of the room. I follow behind him trying my best to ignore the odd stares from my classmates.

He bursts into our room and begins to rummage through his bags.

"Get your coat, Max," he instructs.

I obey, slinging on my coat and tucking my hair under a winter cap.

"Where are we going, Tone?" I inquire, tugging on my mittens.

"Gonna do a bit of exploring," He says, grinning ear to ear. "Experience the Russian culture."

He pulls a knitted jumper over his head and makes for the door.

"That's all you're going to wear?" I ask, "It's freezing out, Tone"

"I'll be fine." He assures me, but I stop walking.

Why does he have to be so bloody stubborn? "At least put on a hat."

He stares defiantly at me, but when I continue to stay motionless he walks over to his bag and snatches out a knit hat with a pom on top. "Fine dad, can we go now?"

I smile. "Yes we can, but I bet any money you regret not wearing mittens."

We wander aimlessly when we first enter the small village surrounding the hostel. Tony peaks in shop windows as I try to figure out the sign boards that hang outside.

"The best way to experience another culture," Tony explains in between windows. "Is to see where they drink."

"So we're looking for a pub?"

"Of course." He says.

For some reason I feel let down by that. While I am sure it'll be more fun than sitting around the dining hall would be, I guess I just hoped for something more exciting. Something more Tony.

"Found it!" He says, staring through a glass door. He waves me over and we enter, but he freezes just inside the door, causing me to bump into him.

"What are you-" I begin to ask, but then I see what caused him to stop. Jal and Michelle are sitting at the bar dressed in matching sparkly outfits. He starts walking backwards so I follow suit until we've excited the bar unnoticed. He stops in the center of the road with his hands on his hips and takes a long look up and down the street.

"We'll just have to find somewhere else," he sighs.

With that he makes a decision and starts walking up the street. I jog to catch up and fall into step.

Twenty minutes later we're still walking around what had seemed to be a tiny village looking for somewhere to drink. I've resorted to holding on to Tony's arm just to keep myself walking, but he's begun to slow now too.

"Let's just try that building over there and if it's not a drinking establishment then we'll just go back to the pub," he says, pointing at what has to be the shadiest building in the village.

"Can't we just go take some more of Valentina's vodka?" I plead.

"We've already done that once, where is the excitement in that?" he asks, and then he looks at me as if he actually expects me to answer. I shrug, then sigh and rest my head on his shoulder to let him know that I've had enough of this without actually saying it. Where is the excitement in any of this anyway?

A light snow has built up on our shoulders as we near the windowless building at the end of the road. I dislodge myself from Tony's side as we approach the front entrance and he tries opening the door. It's locked. I follow as he makes his way around the building to where it backs onto a forest. I can feel my adrenaline begin to pump as he turns the knob and the door pops ajar, he turns to flash me a smile and pulls the door open.

My jaw drops as I take in what we've just walked in on. In the center of the room is a man handcuffed to a wooden chair. He's been beaten bloody by the four men standing around him with aluminum bats, all of whom now turn their attention to us.

"Who the fuck are you?" One of them demands.

"Oh, don't mind us," Tony speaks calmly and without hesitation. "We're just here to… experience Russian culture." He gives a wave for them to continue, and one of the goons smashes the guys face with his bat. The other three narrow their eyes at him and he realizes he's done something wrong.

The man who spoke pulls out a gun and points it at Tony. I want to turn and run, but when I look at Tony he's smiling. Tony picks up a bottle of unopened vodka from a large table near the door and holds it up appraisingly.

"Why don't we just take this then and we'll let you get on with your business." Tony offers.

The man with the gun smiles back. "Why don't I just shoot you?"

"Cause we're young, handsome English tourists," he supplies. "People will look for us. You'll have to hide our bodies and clean up all the mess, it's a lot of work for some vodka, innit?"

"He's got a point," one of the other men supplies.

The man with the gun nods, but quickly turns the gun on his cohort and shoots him in the leg.

Before I even have a chance to process what's happening, Tony has a fistful of my shirt and he's pulling me out the door and into the woods. We run through the trees as fast as we can. I hear to door swing open a second time as the men come pouring out of the building, there is some yelling in Russian and then just the sound of our heavy breathing and our footfalls on the mossy ground. Tony stops abruptly and pulls me into a small cove at the base of a large tree.

"They shouldn't be able to track us see," He explains pointing at the ground.

The trees have stopped the snow from settling on the ground this far into the woods, and in the failing light even I can't make out any footprints on the ground.

As I calm myself down, I find myself noticing our proximity to each other more and more. To the point where I even feel a flush creeping onto my cheeks. It irks me that this is the second time on this trip that I've had a physical response to him. I'd love to just blame it on being around him and only him all week, on Tony overload, but I can't. Tony's always had something about him that's interested me; I guess it's the same thing that attracts everyone to Tony, his mischievousness, his ability to get in and out of trouble wherever he is.

People will say that that's the reason they hate him, because he always seems to be looking for trouble, but they're lying. Deep down that's why everyone sticks around despite calling him an arsehole, because he makes everything he touches that extra bit exciting. Or perhaps it's the fear of missing out that keeps everyone close, the dread of having to hear the story secondhand.

This whole thing with the Russians right now is exactly the type of thing I was hoping for when Tony said we were going exploring, what I wanted from him when I decided to ask if I could room with him. I could pretend to be pissed off that I could've been killed, but in honest this is _the_ most exciting moment of my life thus far. A memory that I will never forget no matter what else happens in the future.

My whole body tenses from the cold as Tony's hands find their way under my shirt. I feel a shiver in my spine as my body works to replenish the stolen heat.

"I should've worn mittens." He whispers behind me and I can hear the smile in his voice. He settles his head against my back and I sigh, this is the real reason people hate Tony. It's the anxiety he puts in people, just by deciding to get close to them, because everybody knows Tony will get bored and drop them just like that. He gives you a reason to second-guess every bad thought you've ever had about him and then he proves them all right.

One of his hands leaves my stomach and pulls the bottle of vodka he stole from the Russians out of his pocket and taps it against me knee. I take it and jump a little as the hand returns just as cold as it was the first time. I take off the cap and take a huge sip. I look up at him and hold the bottle to his lips so he can take a sip as well.

"Thanks," he says and then kisses the top of my head.

I smile despite myself, despite knowing that tomorrow we leave Russia and this is all over. It pains me to think that this might be the last time we are ever this close to one another, if there is any part that I miss the most it will be having him there to fall asleep with and wake up to. I sink into him and take another sip of vodka, I may as well enjoy it while it lasts. He tightens his arms around my middle.

"Max," he whispers, "You shouldn't give in to guys like me… you deserve better."

I don't understand what he means or else I just can't spot the joke in it.

"There is no one better than Tony Stonem." I reply, only joking in tone.

"I am serious, Max." he snaps, "Promise me. Promise you'll find someone who deserves you."

Shit. I am so confused. Why is it that conversations like this always happen when your mind is filled with shit? When it's super late and you've got a buzz going and you're running away from the Russian mafia? I take a moment to think and just go with whatever comes to my mind.

"Why can't you be the one to?" I blurt.

He laughs, but it isn't right. It doesn't sound like him.

"Because I don't know how to be, Max."

He settles his chin in the crook of my neck before I say another word. We spend the night tucked in our tree, sitting just like that. Neither of us sleep.


	5. Friday

FRIDAY

"You ready?" Tony whispers as the sun begins to brighten the sky to a pale grey.

I nod and reluctantly stand up. My joints feel stiff from sitting so long, but I can't complain, it was really peaceful to sit there and just silently soak in the environment without feeling awkward. I yawn as I stretch my muscles, I haven't felt the least bit tired the entire time we've been in the woods, but now I can already feel the effects of a sleepless night.

It takes is almost an hour to find our way through the woods and the village and back to the hostel. I spend the time thinking on what he said by the tree, about how he didn't know how to be the one to deserve me. Mostly I just don't understand what makes him think he doesn't already.

When we enter the room I barely have time to unzip my coat before Tony is pulling me down to the bed. He puts his arm around me and rests his head on my chest.

"If we're lucky, we can still manage a few hours sleep before that fucking bell." He mumbles into my sweater.

I kick my boots off and slide the rest of the way into bed and my eyes flutter closed. The bell rings.

"Well, fuck." He sighs.

He pushes against my chest to sit up and groans, rubbing his hands over his face. He gets out of bed and rummages through his suitcase for a new outfit. He strips and begins to redress, and as he does I begin to realize why Michelle is so desperate to keep him. Watching him like this every morning must be glorious, it's just Tony on his own. Not thinking about his next move or trying to manipulate people, just getting ready for the day.

Maybe it's just me being tired, but I feel like I am watching a movie in slow motion. I am able to zoom in and notice all the small things that make him the perfection that he is. The beauty marks here and there across his pale skin, the way he bites his lip when he's making a decision and the obsessive way he plays with his bangs until they sit just so. I could fall in love with this Tony. I guess I have been since Monday, I just didn't notice. Maybe this has been his plot the whole time.

"Are you going to get ready too or just continue to be a pervert?" he smiles, breaking me from my musings.

I quickly throw on the first outfit I find that matches and we leave to join the other students in the dining hall.

More slop, better yet, the last slop that I will ever have… hopefully. Tom stands on his bench and clears his throat for attention.

"This week we have learned history and we have made history," he exclaims. "We've been brought closer together by our experiences both planned and unplanned."

He stops there for… laughter? Applause? In any case, nobody bites and he continues.

"Here's to a fantastic trip!" He raises his glass of orange juice to silence.

Someone near the back of the room laughs, I think it's Kenneth by the sound of it, and Tom steps dejectedly from the bench.

"Harsh." Tony says, finishing his last bit of slop. We drop our dishes in the washbasin and return to our room to pack.

When we arrive at our room it seems only I've returned to pack since Tony has apparently been keeping his suitcase nicely sorted the entire time. He simply shuts the case and zips it closed before flopping on the bed and closing his eyes.

I on the other hand have my clothes strewn about the room. It's not something I would normally do, but I just stopped caring where I put my clothes when I took them off once Tony decided we'd be cuddling every night. While collecting my clothes, mostly from the unused bed, I find one of Tony's sweaters mixed in with mine and I seriously consider stealing it. It'd be like a token to remember this week by, and maybe to help remember this nice Tony and the smell of him.

Knowing Tony though, he'd notice it was gone as soon as we got back, probably ask me if it got mixed in with my bag.

"Tone," I call hesitantly. He opens one eye and turns his head to see me. "Can I have this?"

I raise the sweater to show him what I am talking about. He laughs and closes his eyes again.

"Yeah, Michelle will love seeing you walk around college in my favourite sweater."

Good point.

"I'll only wear it in private I promise."

He opens both eyes and turns to face me once more.

"You want my sweater so you can wank in it?" he asks appalled.

I flush instantly, it wasn't what I had planned, but likely would have happened eventually and it wouldn't even be the first time Tony has factored into my wanking either.

"I just meant like… 'round the house." I stammer.

"Sure," he says, disbelieving. "Keep it, it's yours."

I smile and tuck it away in my bag before he changes his mind.

Once my bag is packed and set by the door next to Tony's, I crawl in bed behind him. He rolls over instantaneously and throws his arm around my middle, pulling me closer to him. We get about an hour of sleep in before Tom and Angie begin knocking on doors, readying us for departure.

We all pack into the farmer's flatbed one last time, a little tighter than the last with all of us holding onto our bags, but everyone seems happy enough. Tony, Sid and I sit in our huddle closest to the cabin window.

"What did you guys get up to after you left, last night?" Sid asks.

Tony just shrugs.

"Bunch of us tried to leave once you did, but only 'Chelle and Jal made it before Valentina locked us all in. She made us listen to her sing Neil Diamond all night." He shudders.

"Could've been worse," I inform him. " Tony almost got us killed by the Russian mafia."

Tony looks at me grinning. "Fun wasn't it?"

"Bloody hell," he complains. "I knew I'd miss out on something when I switched rooms."

"Sorry," I say with a shrug.

It isn't long before we've arrived at the airport. We make our way through security, much easier than at Heathrow, and board the plane. As we wait for the plane to take off, I begin to feel my lack of sleep catching up with me. It's over and hour before the plane finally takes off and by then I can barely keep my eyes open. I turn to Tony,

"Will you be bored if I sleep?" I ask.

He holds up his book in reply, I get comfortable in my chair and rest my head on his arm.

"There are pillows, you know." He states quietly.

"You'll do." I reply, not having even opened my eyes.

I drift off.

I wake to Tony shaking my shoulder. I look up to see everyone pulling their carry-ons from the overhead compartments and taking the stairs down to the tarmac. Tony doesn't stand until the last two people are stepping outside. He walks most of the way down the aisle then stops abruptly and I am forced to a halt behind him. He turns to face me, staring, thinking about something.

"Kiss me." He demands with a smile. "Before we officially touch English soil."

While I've thought about it many times before, the way he asks for it makes me anxious and the flight attendant watching us curiously from the door is making me uncomfortable. I laugh nervously.

"What? No, why should I?"

"I don't know how you expect me to keep being so nice, when no good ever comes of it," he explains.

A million thoughts are running through my head and I just want them to stop so I can think properly. This is probably some long con he's been doing to get something out of me, but he seemed so honest in the woods last night and I just wish that attendant would stop staring at us! This is the best I could hope for isn't it? One last kiss, a real one this time, before we pretend nothing happened, start fresh. He has been really nice to me all week, doesn't he deserve it? No time to decide, he's already leaning in.

"Something to think about when you're wearing my sweater." He says. And then we're kissing. As soon as his lips touch mine I know I would've done it anyway, so I give it all I got. His tongue slips out and glides across my lips, and I gladly let him in. As his tongue explores my mouth, my hands explore his body. One hand runs up and into his hair and the other moves down, sliding under his shirt and feeling as much of him as it can.

When I pull away to catch my breath, I know I've ended it. He stands there so calm blue eyes searching mine, but for what? I don't know, but I bet they're telling him everything they can. A small "Squee!" comes from the flight attendant causing Tony to turn around, a playful smile sitting teasingly on his lips. I drop my forehead to his shoulder as everything he told me in the woods floats to mind. I lift my head to look him in the eye.

"You told me not to fall for a guy like you." I say. It comes out sounding breathless despite my every intention to sound unaffected.

"You should've listened."

He tilts his head in the direction of the door and turns to go for it. He pulls my hand to get me to follow, but doesn't hold it. He smirks at the attendant as we reach the stairs and she smiles in return, winking at me as I pass.

I can see it already, him distancing himself. He's down the steps before I am even half way; I stop, watching him walk across the tarmac. Even if this is the end of… whatever this was, it's all been worth it. He's the reason I actually got out of the hostel to explore, he's the one who cheered me after seeing all of those poor horses and after Anwar. So if this is how it ends, so be it.

He stops mid-way across the tarmac and looks back at me.

"Max, what are you waiting for?" He yells. I start across the tarmac and he waits for me, his arm outstretched to take my hand. I grab it, a smile spreading across my face.

Maybe this isn't the end after all.


End file.
